


At Sea

by PerfectStorm



Category: Gay Pirates (song)
Genre: Angst, Consensual Sex, Gang Rape, Gay Male Character, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Narcolepsy, Period-Typical Racism, Physical Abuse, Pirates, Rape, Scars, Sexual Abuse, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 05:29:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2336903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerfectStorm/pseuds/PerfectStorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Jones, a closeted gay pirate, tries to escape his past by leaving Maronne and heading out for Saugen on a ship where he meets the shy, quiet, narcoleptic Sebastian.</p><p>Here is my inspiration for this story, the Gay Pirate song... www.youtube.com/watch?v=dysG12QCdTA</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Maronne

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with the Gay Pirates song or video, nor am I making any money off of this.
> 
> Here is the original gay pirate song that was my inspiration: www.youtube.com/watch?v=dysG12QCdTA

James stood on the pier, his dirty toes curled over the edge as he watched the ship glide through the water towards him. It wasn’t a very large ship, with only room for about twenty passengers and ten crew members, but James knew that he had to be on it when it left for Saugen that very day. James had lived in Maronne for the past twenty-five years with his parents, a shopkeeper and a wet nurse, but the town was closing in around him now, squeezing him out like the last drops of ointment in a tube. The week before, James had been caught in bed (or, more accurately, a bed of hay) with the local stable boy Max, and though James had been able to flee the barn fast enough, Max had not been so lucky. James snuck back into the barn the morning after the incident and had found Max dead on the floor, his genetalia slashed at with a sharp weapon.

The ship approaching creaked with its weight and age as it settled against the pier, and one of the young crew boys hopped over the edge to tie the boat to the dock. He knocked James’ shoulder while he rushing to tie up the boat, and he mumbled a hurried apology.

“It’s alright,” James assured him. The ramp leading up to the boat landed in front of his feet and he stepped back to allow the passengers off before he stepped on. Exiting the ship, it was mostly royals, a few Chinese men, and a group of college students. James moved aside to let the people past, and the crew boy scrambled back onto the boat first before James could step on. 

James walked onto the ramp and then jumped down to the deck, being met with six pairs of vicious eyes. The crew stood in a line, shoulder to shoulder, and James knew that he had dressed inappropriately for this. His shirt was tucked into his pants. He had shaved that morning. He had even cleaned his teeth.

“What’s this imp doin’ on board?” one of the crew asked the others, and their laughs trickled out unsurely. They had noticed the callouses on James’ hands and feet, and they wondered if he could actually be useful to them. James knew that he needed to earn their trust and respect if he was to earn the Captain’s, so he said, “I’m ‘ere to ‘elp, because I’m fucking good at it.” He met every set of eyes until there was no one left laughing.

“How can you ‘elp?” one of the bigger men in the crew asked, stepping forward out of the line. His posture and glare screamed danger at James, but he held his ground, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance. 

“I’ve been workin' on the docks for years. I know me way around a ship like I know me way around a woman,” he said. He didn’t include that he’d only been “around” a woman once, when he was fifteen, but he did know his way around a ship. 

The giant man bellowed a laugh and stepped aside, grabbing another crew member by the arm to lead him away, and the group dispersed. James walked up the deck and ducked under the stairs to get to the Captain’s Cabin door. He rapped his fist against it twice quickly, and it opened almost immediately. 

The Captain was a large, sturdy man with offending breath and no teeth. He was bald and wore a white, stained bandana to cover some of the shininess atop his head, and he reached out to shake James’ hand. His grip and handshake was just as sturdy as he was.

“What’s yer name, boy?” he demanded. James took his cap off and held it over his heart before responding, “James Jones, cap’n.” 

“What an unfortunate name, son. We’ll just call ya James here. I’m Captain Orson. Now, find yerself some proper boots down in the stores and then come back up so we can set off,” the Captain ordered. James nodded, put his cap back on, and went down the stairs into the stores. It was a small room with racks of cubbies a foot off the walls, filled with barrels of ale, boxes of hard biscuits, and socks; hundreds of pairs of socks were hastily stuffed into the cubbies. He found a pair of boots in one of the lower cubbies, and he had to sit down on the wet floor to slide them on his feet. His feet were small, and always had been, and because the boots were several sizes too large for him, he stuffed a sock into the toe of each boot to fill them.

It was while he was sitting on the floor that he saw a foot sticking out from underneath the cubbies. The foot was clean, tan, and bare, and James knew that person attached to that foot wasn’t dead. He stood up and saw that the person’s leg led underneath the cubbies, and he had to poke his head through one of the cubby holes to see behind the rack.

The man was small enough to fit behind the cubbies -- he would have to be -- and he was snoring quietly. He held an empty whiskey bottle against his chest like a cherished toy. On his body was a white linen shirt that was as strangely clean as he was, and a pair of brown trousers that were too large for him. James thought that he looked quite peaceful as he slept, but he wondered why the man had chosen that place to take a nap; it was cramped and would require a lot of effort to fit through a cubby hole to lay behind the rack.

“James, get up ‘ere!” the Captain’s voice yelled down the stairs, and James scrambled to climb back up. He lined up on the deck with the other crew members, his shoulders touching theirs, and the Captain stood in front of them.

“Where’s Bast?” he asked after a few seconds of silence. The crew members stuck their necks out and looked down the line, not seeing the person they were searching for. James suspected that it was the man who was sleeping behind the storage racks, but he didn’t want to get the man in trouble, so he said nothing.

“Garge, go find him,” the Captain commanded. The giant man stepped out of line and headed for the stores. He came back only seconds later dragging the once-sleeping man behind him by the collar of his shirt like a doll. The man had obviously been roused from his sleep harshly, and his hands shook as he tried to put his bandana over his dirty blond hair. Garge let him, going back to his spot in line. Once the man’s blond curls were tucked underneath the bandana, he got in place at the end of the line.

“Bast, if I find you asleep on duty one more time, I’m going to haul yer arse overboard. Understood?”

“Yes, cap’n,” he said quietly, his voice soft and muted. ‘A voice that could make me fall asleep at will’, James thought. The Captain went through a list of instructions, and assigned each member of the crew a job. He assigned James to crawl out onto the bowsprit and let him know if his steering was too far to the right or left as they exited the bay.

James walked up to the bow and took off his boots; the wood was slippery, and so was the rubber soles of his boots. He crawled up onto the bowsprit and then wrapped his legs around the wooden pole, straddling it as he scooted forward ungracefully. That was the only way to get as far forward as he needed to be without hanging underneath it like a monkey. He gripped the wood with all his might, because if the boat hit anything, the force would surely throw him off, and James didn’t know how to swim.

“How are we lookin’ up there, James?” Captain Orson called over the noise on the ship, and the front of the boat started drifting out onto the water, parting the waves like opening a book.

“Lookin’ good, cap’n,” James yelled back over his shoulder. The ship started moving faster, and he heard the airy billowing of the main sail opening behind him. The gush of air slammed against his back, but he had been expecting it, and held his way through.

What he hadn’t been expecting was the stinging slap of rubber against the back of his neck, and it almost sent him overboard. He swung down under the bowsprit but hung on in a panic, tightening his arms and legs around the horizontal pole until his chest pressed up against it.

“What the bloody hell!” he exclaimed, and several crew members crawled out onto the bowsprit to help him. They grabbed his back, hips, and sides, and hauled him back onto the deck expertly. James looked around the deck for the thing that had hit him, and found the rubber shoe laying on the bow, small and antagonizing. He looked straight up in the air and saw the man who had been sleeping in the stores sitting up on the foremast, asleep again. One of his feet was bare. James wanted to scream at the man for almost causing him to fall out of the ship and drown, but he was deeply asleep, and James wondered if something was wrong with the man. People didn’t just fall asleep dozens of meters in the air if they were fine and normal.

So instead, he dropped the shoe and climbed carefully back out onto the bowsprit. The Captain called out several more times to him, asking if his course was still straight, and James told him that it was. After an hour, they were out of sight of the shore, and James had left his past life behind him on the docks.


	2. The Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James officially meets Sebastian, only to find out and experience for himself why Bast is so afraid.

James crawled down to the crew’s quarters at midday to take a nap instead of eat lunch with the crew and the Captain. He wasn’t hungry, and he’d worked harder that day than any day before; all he wanted to do was sleep. His calloused palms were bleeding, and he didn’t want the crew to think he was delicate either.

The crew’s quarters were in the lowest part of the ship, and with no windows, it was almost completely dark when he stepped inside. A small stream of light stabbed through a slit in the wood above, but that was it. He chose a hammock in the corner of the room that didn’t seem occupied, and climbed up into it, curling around his knees and tucking his head under the covers for the most warmth.

James had only closed his eyes for a moment before he heard the scuffling by the door and a deep voice said, “Just throw him in.” He assumed that one of the other crew members had passed out from the spirits at lunch, but when he felt a heavy weight thrown on top of him, arms and legs flailing wildly, he scrambled to pull himself out from under the blanket. The person on top of James let out an exclamation and started cursing, caught up in the blanket just as much as James was. James pulled himself out from under the blanket and the person who had been thrown over him stumbled out of the hammock, catching himself on the wall with a hand. It was the man who had fallen asleep behind the cubby rack and on top of the foremast, and he stared at James in horror, his bandana clutched in his hands. James vaguely remembered them calling him Bast.

“What you doin’ in me bed?” he demanded in a Scottish accent, his eyes bright with fear and his cheeks flushed. James didn’t know why the man was afraid of him, so he answered carefully: “I’m sorry, mate, I didn’t know it was taken.”

“You were wrong,” Bast said shakily, moving his hands to slip his bandana on back over his hair. His earring got momentarily caught by the fabric, but Bast held worried eye contact with James as he untangled it.

“‘m sorry,” James said again, getting out of the hammock and going across the room to find another. But something James had done that had supremely bothered Bast, and he asked again, “What were ya doin’ in me bed?”

“I said that I was just lookin’ for a place to sleep. What’s up yer arse?” James said angrily, turning over to face away from the man.

“Come on. Did the boys put you up to this? What’d they tell ya?”

“Can you shut ta fuck up?” James snapped. What had this man been drinking? James heard the creaking of the other hammock as Bast climbed into it and James rolled over to see if he was crying; he could have sworn that he heard soft whimpering coming from across the room. 

But what he saw was much more disturbing than tears; Bast had taken off his shirt before getting in his hammock, and the pale, freckled expanse was covered in a crisscross pattern of half-healed whiplashes. They ran from his shoulder blades down past the waist of his pants to where James couldn’t see, but he assumed that the scars covered his buttocks as well. James climbed out of his hammock silently and walked over to the man, bringing his face closer to the scars. He saw whip fibers still embedded in the ditches dug out of the man’s back, and some of the marks looked like they were decades old. James suddenly wondered why this man was on the boat when he was falling asleep on the job and getting whipped. 

“What-” Bast had felt James’s breath on his back, and he started to turn over, but James automatically grabbed his hips to stop him from doing that. Bast flinched at his touch and froze, his body tensing up.

“Please don’t hurt me. I’m so tired,” he whispered, breathing in short gasps as he reached around to remove James’s hands from his body.

“Hurt you?” he asked, alarmed. He stepped away from the hammock, and Bast rolled over to face James, his eyes dampened. His knees were curled up to his chest in a protective manner, and his arms were wrapped around his legs, each hand grasping a wrist. He looked like he was expecting James to attack him.

“Sebastian, you down here, mate?” a voice drawled as a few men climbed down the ladder into the quarters. They were the men James had been avoiding all day; their eyes looked just on the edge of violence, and he saw the way they now looked at Bast, as if James wasn’t standing right next to his hammock, gritting his teeth. He glanced back at Bast and saw that he had become grey and sweat droplets had formed on his forehead. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the group of men.

“Please,” Bast started, but James stepped into the men’s line of vision, blocking Sebastian from them.

“Mates, him and I were havin’ a little chat. If you’d, kindly, leave us alone…” James said quietly, a silent warning in his voice. His stance was one of aggression, his chest puffed out and his hands resting on his hips.

“We'd gladly take you instead,” Garge growled, stepping towards him, flanked by the two other men.

“James, no,” Bast whispered, and James only had a few seconds to be surprised (and a little bit pleased) that he knew his name before Garge shoved him to the ground, stepping down on one of his hands. He cried out in pain and tried to pull his hand out from under Garge’s boot, but the man pressed all his weight down on it, crushing some of the smaller bones. Another of the men shoved James’s face down into the wooden floor as he screamed, and Bast’s voice cried out once before he was silenced.  
Someone sat down on James’s back and the pressure on his hand was released; he automatically pulled his hand back into himself like a lost pet finding its home again, and he cradled it against the part of his chest he could reach. He felt their rough hands on his back and his shoulders, and he was shoved so hard against the floor that his teeth scraped the wood. His chest was flattened against the ground and suddenly he felt air blow across his buttocks cheeks, right before fingers dug in and made him shriek in pain and terror. He suddenly understood the pain he had seen in Bast’s eyes, and the only thought that made his ordeal even a little bearable was that this was happening to him instead of Sebastian.  
The man straddled him and pushed himself inside James, and it was such an awful sensation, so different from his usual sexual encounters, that he felt bile rise in his throat. His shoulder sockets were burning, but not more than the tears in his eyes were. They burned worse than if he were on fire.


	3. Hook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James finds out what's wrong with Bast after saving him from going overboard during a violent storm that almost destroys the ship.

The crew went back upstairs and left James on the floor, gasping and shaking, unable to move from his position on the ground. His hand was throbbing in pain, as was the rest of his body, and he managed to roll onto his side to cradle his hand against his chest. He wasn’t sure if Bast was still in the room, but he couldn’t raise his head to look up at the hammock.

James could hear the crew’s shouts and laughs from the deck above, and he prayed that no one would come looking for him before it was time for evening work. If the rest of the crew found out what had happened, they would surely pronounce him a queer and throw him overboard. 

That terrifying thought gave him the energy to reach down with his good hand and pull his pants back up around his waist by a belt loop. Once he was covered, he sat up and instantly groaned, the bruises on his buttocks and thighs aching as he put weight on them. He got to his feet and looked about the room, and was surprised to see Bast still laying in his hammock, his back to James.

“Bast? Are you alright?” he whispered, going over to the hammock and reaching out to touch Bast’s back, but he stopped before contact, remembering Bast’s reaction the last time he did that. 

It made him confused and uncomfortable when he realized that Sebastian was asleep, and had slept through the whole attack. He wondered if the men had knocked him out. Walking around the other side of the hammock, he didn’t see any blood on Bast’s face or clothes; in fact, Bast looked quite peaceful as he slept. James didn’t want to leave Bast alone downstairs after finding out what the crew had been doing to him, so he climbed into the hammock beside Bast’s and fell asleep.

The thunderstorm that shook the structure of the boat woke James up, and when he looked over, he saw that Bast was waking up too. Their eyes met, and James saw Bast physically tense up as he remembered what had happened.

“I’m sorry.” Bast’s voice cracked like broken glass, and James felt guilt flood his chest, making him warm and sad. He sat up in the hammock, throwing his legs over the side, and Bast did the same.

“Don’t be sorry. I’d do it again.”

“Why?” Bast asked.

“Because it’s not right. You haven’t anyone to protect you.”

“Yeah, well, who’ve you got?”

James went quiet, knowing that Bast was right, but it didn’t change how he felt. He wanted to protect this young, sleepy, abused young man. He reminded James a lot of Max, but along with Max’s scars came anger and resentment, and it seemed that Bast’s abuse just made him want to give up.

So James responded, “I’ve got you, silly.” His heart wasn’t in it, and Bast could hear that, but a strained smile crossed his lips nonetheless. 

“You do have me,” he agreed, dropping his eyes to the floor. James got to his feet and walked over to the stores to find a bandage for his hand, and when he found one, he wrapped it tightly around his palm and over the back of his hand several times, securing it with a metal clip. It still hurt like the bones weren’t quite done breaking yet, but he knew that he had work to do. The storm would be hard on the ship, and the Captain needed as many hands on deck as he could get. 

“I’ve got to get upstairs…will you be okay down ‘ere?” James asked, his back to Bast as while he spoke. His trembling fingers were trying to tie the drawstring to his pants, and Bast said, “Yes, I’ll be fine.”

As James emerged from the crew’s quarters, Captain Orson spotted him from the portside of the deck, and beckoned him over. When James got over to him, he said, “This storm’s gonna be a tough one. I want you up on the bowsprit again, telling us if we’re gonna hit somethin’.”

“Aye, cap’n,” James responded. He walked up to the mast, and then a shadow crossed over him, Garge appearing in his line of vision only a few feet ahead. James couldn’t suppress his sharp intake of breath, but it only drew Garge’s attention to him. Garge smiled toothily and then turned away, walking back to his post by the sail. James recovered himself, allowing his breathing to go back to normal before climbing up to the bowsprit and pulling himself up on to the ledge. It was easier this time to hold on, even though the bow was slick with seawater. He knew how to hold himself up without the risk of falling, wrapping his legs around the bow and squeezing with his thighs while holding himself up by his arms. He could only see a few meters in front of the ship because of the fog and constantly rising waves, and he knew that if any waves broke over the bowsprit, he’d probably be thrown into the water, no matter how tightly he was holding on. He wondered why the Captain let him sit up there anyway, with the huge risk factor, but he knew that someone had to do it; might as well be him.

Though, maybe the Captain knew about him. Maybe the men had told Orson that James had been talking intimately with Bast, and that he had been hoping that it would lead to more. But the Captain hadn’t seemed like he was angry with James when he had given him the order to climb up on the bowsprit, so he realized that he was overreacting.

“How we lookin’, kid?” Orson called from the wheel, but James could hardly hear him from the mast. The wind was howling like a child torn from his mother, and the waves were causing the ship to pitch dangerously to the side. James leaned his whole body down to the pole and reached around with his arms too, trying to hold himself in place.

“You’ve got a rock ‘bout forty meters up, cap’n! Steer right!” James yelled, but his voice was lost in the wind, and he knew that he’d have to turn around if the Captain was to hear him. He started scooting backwards on the bowsprit, and suddenly, hands were grabbing his hips, trying to help him off. He knew instantly that it was Sebastian, but why he would dare touch James in front of the crew, he did not know. He allowed Bast to help him down from the mast before meeting his eye, and giving a small shake of the head. Bast understood, and let go of James right away.

James sprinted up to the quarter deck where Orson was steering the ship and told him, “Sir, a rock thirty meters up. You’ll want to steer right.”

“Aye, mate. Right on. Go back to your post.”

James was just climbing back down the stairs when the ship groaned and pitched to the right, throwing all the crew members who weren’t holding on down into the fence lining the deck, including James. One of the men tumbled over the fence, and James briefly considered diving over to try to save him, but the boat pitched again dangerous, piercing sense into his brain. The man was probably dead already from the waves.

As James held on to the fence and the boat continued tipping sideways, his eyes frantically searched the deck for Sebastian. He finally spotted him holding onto one of the sail ropes for dear life, his feet scraping the deck for purchase that the rain wouldn’t give. But Bast’s eyes were also rolling back in his head, and James watched in horror as he let go of the rope and started down the diagonal deck. If he didn’t wake back up, he would slide right under the fence and into the water without being able to catch himself.

James crouched down with his feet on the fence and shoved off towards where Bast would hit the fence, but he only slid a few feet, and it was difficult to catch himself when he landed.

“Hey, someone, grab him! Grab him!” James was shouting, but everyone was clinging onto the fence to save themselves, and the pounding rain blotted out James’s voice completely. James pushed off again, but he wasn’t making fast progress, and Bast was picking up speed. He was about to push off again when his foot caught on a metal hook that was wrapped around part of the fence, attached to a long rope. James grabbed the hook and hurled it towards Bast, hoping it would catch his shirt or sleeve and stop him from sliding into the ocean.

It stabbed through part of his shirt and jerked him to a stop, but James saw the blood flow start down the ship’s deck, and knew that he had nicked part of Bast’s side. He used the rope attached to pull himself over to Bast, and when he got to him, he secured the rope around Bast’s waist, tying him to one of the sail poles so that if the hook broke free of the wood, Bast wouldn’t start sliding again.

“Just a moment, boys!” Orson yelled, and then the ship slowly leaned back towards the other side, becoming flat and stable again. The crew stumbled to their feet, and several men puked on themselves, their faces drawn and pale. James got to his feet and scrambled to untie Sebastian so he could take him below deck and tend to his wounds. Bast still wasn’t moving, and James worried about a head injury that he’d missed.

He carried Sebastian to the quarters before anyone in the crew noticed him, and he laid Bast down in his hammock, carefully peeling the bloody part of his shirt away to reveal the wound. It was the length of his forefinger but not very deep, and the water had washed away any dirt or grime from the metal hook that had cut him.  
James found a few sticky bandages in the stores and held them against Bast’s wound, trying to staunch the bleeding, and a few minutes passed before James realized that Bast’s eyes were open and staring at him.

“What happened?” he muttered, looking down at his side and growing pale at the sight of his own blood. He took in a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but it didn’t seem to work.

“The ship started tipping, and you almost went overboard, so I secured you to the main sail pole and the hook caught some of your skin. But I promise that I’ll never hurt you again. I am so sorry,” James explained.

“You saved my life. Why are you apologizing?” 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Bast looked down at his side again and relaxed down into the hammock. James changed the bandages out but the bleeding had mostly stopped.

“Why do you keep falling asleep, Bast?” he murmured, unable to meet his eyes. He knew that something was wrong with Sebastian, and he wanted to know what so that he could try to help him. It could be incredibly dangerous as the lookout if he fell from atop one of the sails.

“I don’t know. It’s some sort of illness. Whenever I get stressed, or nervous, I pass out. I can’t control it.”

James had never heard of such a disease, and though under normal circumstances, he would be inclined not to believe him, he wanted to see if Bast was telling the truth.

“Really? So, for instance, if I did this…” James held the bandages down to Bast’s side with his right hand and moved his left slowly up Bast’s chest, trailing his fingers across the pale skin smoothly. Bast stared at James’s hand with half-lidded eyes, and James could see him growing weaker already.

“Aye, like that,” he agreed, and James took notice of Bast’s hands gripping the sides of the hammock. He stopped between Bast’s breastbones and then started back towards his navel, and Bast’s head dropped back against his pillow, his body trembling at James’s soft touch. When James’s hand got to the line of hair that dipped below the waistband of Bast’s trousers, he whispered, “You’re not unconscious yet.”

“That’s because I like it,” Bast responded in a voice barely above a stray breath, and James shivered with anticipation. He let go of the bandages and smoothed both of his hands over Bast’s stomach, leaning over him to get a better reach as he slipped his hands under Bast’s waistband. His back arched up when James fingers found his cock and wrapped his fingers around the warm, hard staff trying to break from the restraints of his pants. Before James could squeeze or start rubbing, Bast’s eyelids fluttered closed and he sagged down farther into the hammock, asleep. His cock stayed hard only momentarily, and James pulled his hands out, closing up Bast’s shirt too.


	4. Rock-A-Bye Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems that everything about this day reminds James of the things he misses.

“We’ve got ourselves a problem on board, mates,” Captain Orson said the next morning seriously, his hands on his hips as he stared down his crew members. James stood perfectly still as the Captain’s eyes met his, though only momentarily, and he felt sure that Orson knew about him and Bast. He didn’t dare a glance over at his partner-in-crime. He could not let the calm waves lulling the ship gently soothe him into a false sense of security.

“During the storm, we lost all eight barrels of fresh water. From now on, you’ll have to live off of ale and sea water,” the Captain continued. James accidentally released the breath he had been holding, and all heads turned to him. Orson walked down the line to stand in front of him and cracked a toothless smile.

“Seems James ‘ere likes ale. Yer all dismissed,” he said, laughing heartily. The crew members started dispersing and James saw Bast head for the quarters right away, unthinkingly.

“Hold up there, Bast, boy. You’re not goin’ down there. You’ve got work to do. You have to pull yer weight,” the Captain ordered, and Bast nodded silently. James watched as he walked past them to the main sail pole and started climbing up towards the foremast. He was insanely agile, and climbed the pole like the monkeys in the stories James’ mother had told him as a child. It was only when Bast was balanced delicately on the mast on the balls of his bare feet that he looked down and noticed James staring up at him, his mouth slightly ajar.

Bast glanced around the deck of the ship and when he was sure that no one was looking at him or James, he risked a small wave at him. His heart was pounding at just seeing James giving him that much attention, and from the angle he was looking down at, Bast could see straight into James’ shirt, revealing the muscled chest beneath.

When Bast felt himself starting to get sleepy in result of his arousal, he looked away and held tight to the wooden pole underneath him, focusing his eyes on the cream clouds above. The colorful sky was a welcome view after the storm, and Bast hoped that it would stay that way until they got to Saugen. He doubted that their ship would be able to withstand another beating like that.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
James felt required to eat supper with the crew that night. He knew that if he followed Bast to the quarters, no matter how tired he actually was, the crew would assume that he and Bast were together. Which they probably would be, James thought. But he needed to resist the temptation, for Bast’s sake.

The cook served hardened bread with seagull meat and saltwater for supper. James swallowed down the meat but couldn’t manage the saltwater, feeling like he was going to be sick after taking a small sip. There was seaweed resting at the bottom of his mug. He finished his meal quickly and left as the others continued drinking and singing merrily, stamping their feet on the hollow wooden floor.

James hurried down to the quarters and found Bast asleep in his hammock, his face turned away from the ladder. When James made for his own hammock, he saw that it was now stained yellow, and knew that Garge and his group had pissed in it.

“I guess it’s the floor for me,” he murmured to himself, but surprisingly, Bast’s voice spoke up, “No, with me.” He looked up and saw Bast’s eyes watching him from across the room. He had turned his head, and his eyes didn’t look sleepy in the least.

“We can’t. They’d find us like that,” James said, though he couldn’t help himself from taking a few steps toward Bast’s hammock. Bast’s mouth tipped a smile, reaching a hand out to him. He finished making his way to Bast’s hammock and lifted a knee to climb in beside him. The folding of limbs required to tuck in next to Bast was awkward and formal, but when James relaxed beside him, he got passed a bottle of rum.

“I thought we only had saltwater and ale aboard,” James said lightly, taking the bottle and a swig. Bast waited to answer until the bottle was passed back to him.

“It’s from my hidden stash.”

“Ah.”

James stared up at the deck boards, shadows of people walking above falling over them every once in a while. The hammock was swaying back and forth along with the ship’s movement, and the motion made James suddenly think of his mother. Oh, how he missed her soft arms and gentle touch. Bast’s hand found his, almost as if he had been able to hear the sad memories in James’ head, and they clutched each other until they were both rocked to sleep.


	5. My Land Hoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James disassociates for the first time when he and Bast are caught together and attacked by the crew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty short chapter but hopefully, my next one will be much longer. Thanks for reading!

James was right. The crew did find them together the next morning, but not because they were curled up in the same hammock together. Bast had been drinking sea water, and he was puking noisily into a bucket in the corner of the room when James woke up. James went over to rub Bast’s back, and that’s when the crew burst into the room. Bast tensed up instantly but couldn’t turn around, grabbing the edges of the bucket as the sickness tore up his throat.

“He’s sick. Leave him alone,” James insisted, but Garge grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him away while Marvin and Eddie took each of Bast’s arms and twisted them behind his body.

“Stop it!” James pleaded as the two men dragged Bast away from the bucket and he was forced to throw up on the front of his shirt. He groaned and the men grabbed his chin, tilting his head back to make him look them in the eyes.

“Stop-” Garge slammed James against the ground and knocked the breath out of him, effectively cutting off his ability to speak. He watched the other men drag the now-sleeping Bast out of the quarters and struggled to speak, to call out for help, to breathe; anything. Utterly helpless, all James could do was futilely try to stop Garge hands from pulling down his trousers.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

James came to his senses after Garge had been gone from the room for hours. He saw that he was sitting in the corner of the room, under one of the hanging hammocks, and Garge had dressed him after he was finished with him. Blood and semen were splattered in a small circle by his feet, but he didn’t remember any pain. All he felt was a crisp numbness spread throughout his lower half. 

He got to his feet and absentmindedly wiped the dust off of his trousers. He then realized that his trousers were wet, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why.  
“James,” a tearful voice whispered, and he felt hands on his shoulders as Bast grabbed him and hugged him. 

“You’re alive. They told me they were gonna kill you,” he continued breathlessly, reaching up and stroking James’s face. James couldn’t understand the expression on Bast’s face…desperation, maybe? he thought. But why? What happened?

“You’re alive,” Bast said again and lifted himself onto the tips of his toes to press his lips to James’s urgently. The numbness evaporated then and James grabbed Bast’s elbows, holding him against his body. Bast tugged on James’s bottom lip gently with his teeth before pulling away at a sound above them.

“Ah, you’re my land hoy,” James murmured, leaning his forehead against Bast’s, and their collective tears sprinkled the deck like garden seeds.

Bast kissed James again quickly before going back upstairs to help out on deck. James knew that he needed a few minutes to collect himself before he faced the crew and the Captain. He went over to his hammock and remembered as he was climbing inside that it was stained with pee, but sighing, he said, “Fuck it,” and climbed in anyway. Rolling over onto his back and staring up at the ceiling above him, he saw that the water from the storm had collected in some of the pockets in the wood and was dripping down into the quarters, as if the ceiling was crying. Curling up on his side, James understood how it felt.


	6. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bast shows James a secret place in the ship where they can go and just be themselves.

From then on, James and Bast snuck affectionate touches and chaste kisses whenever they could. They could never go further than that, because they could only see each other in seconds, but they kissed like it was their last day on Earth. They were more careful with when and where they were affectionate, and Garge and his mates no longer caught them together, but they sent the men angry glances and sneers at every passing.

One night, after all the other shipmates were asleep in their hammocks, Bast gently shook James awake and put a finger to his lips. James could barely make out the other man’s face but knew his touch by heart, and he carefully, silently, slipped out of his hammock.

“I want to show you something. Follow me,” Bast murmured. He took James’ hand and they crawled out of the room together, making sure not to accidentally knock into one of the other mens’ hammocks, and when they got out into the narrow hallway, James helped Bast to his feet. Bast took the opportunity to push the larger man against the wall and smash his lips against his for only the one moment of surprise, and then he pulled away.

“Follow me,” he said again, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he pulled his secret bottle of rum out of the folds of his shirt and started down the hall towards the Captain’s quarters. James followed cautiously, glancing behind him every few seconds to make sure that no one had seen them leave, and Bast pulled him into one of the storage closets. Before James’ eyes could adjust to the darkness, the back wall of the closet fell down to reveal a set of rickety wooden stairs, leading downwards.

“Where are we going?” James whispered, but Bast just pulled on his shirt until he was forced to follow him down the stairs. They landed at the bottom of the stairs and Bast turned around and pushed up on the tips of his toes to put the wall of the closet back in place.

James expected the room he now stood in the middle of to be dark, and cold too, since it was underneath the cabins, but it was actually unnaturally warm, and a porthole about a foot up from the floor allowed blue moonlight to filter in. 

“What is this place?” he asked, feeling Bast’s thin arms snake around his waist and his lips press into his shoulder blade through his shirt.

“It’s where Orson keeps his stores of food. I happened upon it the night before last, and wanted to bring you ‘ere. Ain’t it warm?” Bast whispered into the fabric of James’ shirt.

“Aye.”

“We’re right above the coal ovens.”

Bast brought James closer to the porthole, where he’d set bags of flour and rice in a pile for them to lay on, and James settled in, facing the circular view of the sea. Bast settled down between his legs, leaning back against James’ chest and taking a sip of rum. James stroked his soft blond hair lazily with his fingertips and occasionally dropped kisses too, and Bast closed his eyes in relaxation.

“This can be our sanctuary. Just us ‘ere, no one else, just us together,” James murmured, and Bast nodded slowly, as if in a trance.

“I love you,” he responded. When James’ fingers paused in his hair, he opened his eyes and tilted his head back to see James’ expression. The moonlight cast a shadow across his face, but Bast saw clearly the love and adoration in his eyes and on his curved lips.

“As I love you,” he said, leaning down to press his lips upside down to Bast’s. After a quiet moment of calm, Bast pulled away and rolled over so that he was facing James, kneeling between his legs now.

“What is it?” James asked, taking Bast’s face between his hands, not understand the sudden sadness in his partner’s eyes.  
“Nothin’. I just love you so much, is all.” He leaned forward again to capture James’ lips and pressed him back into the pile of flour, his hands shaking as they started to untie James’ shirt. He had never done anything like this before, let alone with a man, but the things he felt for James...he wanted to be as close, physically and emotionally, to this man as he possibly could be.

James grabbed his hands and stilled them, asking, “Are you sure?” Bast nodded and replied simply, “I want to show you how much I love you. I want us to be together in every way.” James let go of Bast’s hands but shifted, holding onto Bast’s body gently, until he was on top, kneeling over Bast.

“I love you.” He couldn’t stop saying it now that he knew and felt sure about his feelings towards Sebastian.  
He shrugged off his own shirt before opening Bast’s and dragging a cold hand down his chest. Bast’s eyelids fluttered but he fought against the exhaustion, determined to stay awake to be intimate with the man he loved.

So he took charge, reaching down between James’ legs and squeezing what was under the tented fabric; James had been holding himself up on his elbows but he instantly dropped on top of Bast at his delicate touch. He hadn’t realized how much his body craved a touch like that, but it had been months since he’d been with Max, and he hadn’t touched himself once since he’d been on the ship. Kisses had been enough with Bast, but they weren’t enough anymore.

James struggled back up onto his elbows so he wouldn’t crush Sebastian and thrust into his touch, wheezing harshly. The heat of the room made it hard to breathe when he was aroused like that, and he knew that he couldn’t take much more teasing. He gently pulled Bast’s hands off of him and pulled them both lower on the pile of flour bags, striving for a flatter surface. 

He then straddled Bast’s hips, holding his legs down, and shimmied the smaller man’s trousers down until they snagged on his feet. Kicking them off, Bast wrapped his legs around James’ waist and felt their erections rub together, James’ pants being the only thing holding them back.

James had to move off of Bast some to get his own trousers off, and then their erections pressed together, making Bast let out a pleased whine most unlike him.

“I need you, now, James, please,” he begged, burying his face in James’ shoulder and biting the skin he found there. He was energized and exhausted and excited all at once, and he didn’t want their precious moment ruined by him falling asleep against his will. He was done with “against his will”. He needed to share this with James because they both wanted to, and because they loved each other.

James knew he didn’t have anything to prepare Bast for him, and gritted his teeth as he heard Bast’s cry of pain when he started pushing in. He paused, and let Bast pant for a few seconds, biting hard into James’ skin, before he spoke.

“Are you okay? Should I stop?” he murmured, and Bast pulled his face out of James’ shoulder so the other man man would see the determination and passion clearly on his face.

“Do not stop,” he ordered, and James lowered his head to kiss him while thrusting in further. Bast’s lips curled under his in a grimace of pain and James paused again. He couldn't bear the thought of hurting Bast, even if it came at the price of not being able to sleep with him.

Sensing that James wasn’t going to push in any further at the cost of hurting him, he reached around James’s body to grab his buttocks and pull the man deeper in. At the feeling of Bast involuntarily clenching around him, he shuddered deeply and started rolling his hips, falling into the slow rhythm Bast set for them. He was no longer hissing in pain, so James flattened himself against Bast’s chest, pressing their bodies together as tightly as he could. 

“Ah, ah, oh blimey, James, James,” Bast whined shrilly, and James silenced him with his own lips, not wanting anyone above them to hear his impassioned cries. But he couldn’t help the deep moan that escaped his own lips when without warning, Bast came all over his chest, and it pushed him over the edge. He bit his tongue and tucked his head into Bast’s shoulder to shut himself up as Bast milked for everything he had, and then he slipped down Bast’s body until his head laid on the smaller man’s chest. Bast had fallen asleep only seconds before he did.


	7. The Mysterious Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Bast wake up from their first time sleeping together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is coming so late! I have about three stories going right now, and have to juggle all of them, my job, and my schoolwork. This is a short one, but I'll be posting a longer one later this month. Thanks! I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 7-

When Bast woke up from his first warm, comfortable slumber in months, it was a few moments before he saw his surroundings and panicked.

“James!” he hissed, scrambling to untangle himself from his lover’s body and get to his feet. The sun had been up for hours and they were still in the storage room. There was no way that they could sneak out now without being seen.

Grabbing a damp washcloth from the ground near him, he set to work on wiping off the mess he had made on James’ chest, as James was struggling to regain consciousness.

“Whassit?” James gurgled, his weary eyes looking around him, not recognizing his surroundings. What had happened last night? Where were they?

He looked down at his chest, where Bast was working hard to get rid of the evidence of their love-making, and suddenly remembered everything. Vividly.

“Last night was amazin’,” James said, grabbing Bast’s wrists and pulling him in for a slow, sweet kiss. 

“No time for that. We’ve gotta get upstairs, and no’one can see us,” Baste told him, tossing the washcloth away when he was done and going behind the pile of food sacks to find his clothes. James dressed himself too, thankful that his clothes were still clean, and followed Bast up the broken staircase to the upper level of the ship. 

Bast opened the door a hair and peaked through to see if the coast was clear, while signaling for James to stay behind him until he was ready.

“Do ya see anyone?” James murmured beside Bast’s ear, trying to peer over his head and look for himself, but Bast gently pushed him back.

“There are folks everywhere. I think they might be lookin’ for us.”

Bast pulled the door shut and turned around to face James, his face white with fear as he took James’s shoulders. James noticed his lover's hands were shaking.

“This could be it for us,” he whispered, on the edge of tears, but James roughly pulled him forward into a hug.

“No, no, don’t even think like that. They’re not gonna find us. Trust me,” James assured him, trying to calm Bast by stroking his smooth hair.

“I don’ wanna be raped anymore,” Bast whispered even more quietly, sounding about five years old and deathly scared.

James couldn’t hug him any more tightly than he already was. He wished more than anything that he could find a way to keep Bast safe; he’d do anything, give anything. If he could-

The door to the staircase was ripped open and Bast whipped around, out of James’ embrace. In the doorway was one of the crew members, someone neither of them had seen or met before. James yanked Bast behind him and held his arms out to block him from harm.

The man in the doorway, tall and dark-skinned, looked over the both of them in silence for a few seconds with an unreadable, stoic expression. James couldn’t breathe...had Bast been right? Was this the end for them?

“No one in 'ere,” the man called to someone further down the hallway. James let out a relieved breath as the man shut the door.

Bast was crying and sagging behind him, and he turned to gather up the man in his arms.


	8. The Island of St. Peters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ship reaches a dangerous and exciting island full of strange people.

When James and Bast made it up to the deck without being spotted by any of the crew, they saw that everyone was already on deck, starting their morning duties. The sun was a fourth of the way through the sky, and the both of them realized how late they were. Thankfully, Orson was nowhere in sight, so Bast avoided James’ eyes and started to climb up to his post. James moved out to the bowsprit. 

It was about half-past noon when James was surprised by a familiar voice calling out from above him: “Land-ho! Land-ho! Cap’n, take a look at that beauty!” 

Bast was scrambling down from his post as he yelled this, his spyglass clutched tightly under his arm, and he rushed to the upper deck to hand the glass over to the Captain. 

James couldn’t see any land in front of them, even six feet out on the bowsprit, but the Captain made a satisfied noise once he’d peaked through Bast’s spyglass.

“Aye. Looks like the Island o’ St. Peters. We’ll stop by there and refill our supplies. Marvin, Eddie, head us thataway!” Orson called, pointing forward and little to the East. Bast, satisfied, looked at James, who had been watching him and willing him to make eye contact.

His eyes said everything. You’re my land-hoy.

Bast afforded him a small smile before breaking away and starting back towards his post. He hadn’t seen Garge at all that morning but he knew it was likely that Garge was watching and waiting for them to make any type of subtle looks at each other.

 

\----------------------------------------

Night was just beginning to fall when James spotted the Island of St. Peters. It wasn’t a very large island, but full of vibrant people, even some Indians and gypsies. Pirates often would be robbed blind on the island, filled with liquor, and sent back to sea penniless and heavy and happy. It was common knowledge. James knew that he’d have to be careful about what he drank, and not accept drinks or gifts from strangers. 

Bast scrambled around on his post restlessly, eager to be on solid ground; they’d be there so soon he could taste it. He could smell torches burning. He could smell food being cooked. He wanted to look down at James and see how he was faring, but he didn’t dare. Garge and his mates were on deck, and probably keeping a watchful eye.

When the island came into fuller view, James saw that the closest docks were full of brown men and women, hardly dressed, dancing with torches to music emitted from what looked like an invisible source. Perhaps there were men under the docks playing guitar and bongos? James didn’t know. When they were only feet from the docks, and the people hadn’t ceased their dancing to greet the incoming ship, James hopped down from the bowsprit and landed on the docks. One of the crewmembers threw the anchor down into the dark water beside the docks and the other mates started to unpack supplies. The pirates quietly chattered about the women on the island, who wore revealing dresses and sparkling, crude jewelry about their necks. James helped unload boxes onto the dock as the music slowly died out. The inhabitants had stopped their dancing to stare at the newcomers, and they didn’t look pleased. One of the older women called out to her people in a strange tongue and they scattered, leaving the deck empty of everyone except the arriving crew.

“James, a word,” Orson’s voice said at his back, and the Captain grabbed his shirt roughly in one of his calloused hands. Before James could ask what it was about, Orson dragged him behind a stack of boxes where the rest of the crew couldn’t see them.

“Yes, Cap’n, what is it?” he whispered, crouching down when the Captain did.

“I’ve heard some rumors from the crew...they say you and Bast are havin’ relations. This is, of course, all conjecture...ain’t it?”

“Of course,” he responded, keeping his voice level.

“But,” Orson continued, “if I were to find out that this were in fact true, I’d skin both ye both alive. Do you understand?”

There was a small bit of movement behind Orson, and it had James’ eyes moving upwards; he saw that Bast was peaking around the stack of boxes. He’d been eavesdropping, and he’d heard everything Orson had said. James saw undiluted terror behind Bast’s endless blue eyes, and he swallowed. 

“It’s not true, Cap’n. There’s nothing goin’ on between him and me. I ain’t a queer,” he said, looking back down at Orson.

“Good. I don’t allow queers on my ship.”

“Of course.”

Orson stood up suddenly and Bast ducked behind the stack of boxes again. Orson shook James’ hand wordlessly and then turned round to go back to the crew.


	9. Unusual Sightings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Bast start to realize that not everything on the island is as it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize ahead of time for any offensive terms or language used in this chapter that may be uncomfortable for some people. The term "Indian" is not used in a derogatory way, but in this time period, pirates often would refer to people on strange or uncharted islands as "Indians". I hope no one is made uncomfortable or offended by this.
> 
> As always, you are encouraged to leave a comment below and let me know what you thought of the chapter.

Orson put James in charge of watching the ship while the rest of the crew carried the empty supply boxes into the village. There was a grouping of trees blocking the village from sight, and even as James strained his eyes from his perch on the bowsprit, he couldn’t see through the thick brush of leaves. The torches on the docks started to burn out after about an hour, and after hour two, James started to worry. Why wasn’t the crew back yet? Had something happened? Was Bast okay? He knew better than to leave the ship alone, but he was strung tighter than a violin, leaning out as far as he could on the bowsprit to try and see into the trees.

A small noise in the trees surprised him and made him lose his balance, and he slipped off his post, clutching for purchase on the wooden rod as he swung down and then plunged feet-first into the ocean. Though the water had seemed dark and dirty when looking at it from above, once James opened his eyes below, he was surprised by the glowing green quality of it. It was as if there was a fire lit under the water, generously providing light so that James could see the creature in front of him; a woman, about eight feet away from him and several feet lower, curiously half-hidden behind one of the stilts holding up the docks. She was staring straight at James, her crystalline eyes seeming to pierce his very being. While her upper half, naked and sparkling, was entirely woman, her lower half, from her waist down, was scaly and green. The tail of a fish.

James wanted to stay and stare at her, but he was running out of oxygen, so he kicked his feet and surged up to the surface, taking a long breath of air before plunging back down into the water. While the water underneath still glowed with green energy, the lady was gone.

A loud explosion in the water caused James to accidentally inhale a gulp of water and a figure grabbed him by the collar, pulling him up to the surface. Only when they were above water did James realize that it was Bast.

“Are you alright?!” he gasped, clutching James to him and patting down his hair, trying to see if he was injured.

“I’m fine, Bast. I fell in but I can swim.”

“Blimey, I thought you were fuckin’ drowning,” Bast breathed in relief, his head dropping forward to rest against James’ chest and they both paddled to keep themselves afloat.

“Where’s the rest of the crew?” James asked, looking up at the docks. The torches had completely burned out but with the light from the moon, he could see that the crew was nowhere in sight.

“They’re at a pub. They sent me back to relieve you of your post. I’m stayin’ with the boat til morning.”

“All by yerself?”

“Well,” Bast said, sliding his arms around James’ waist in the water, “I was kinda hoping you’d want to stay with me.”

As the two of them crawled out of the water onto the dock and laid out to dry in the night breeze, James said, “I saw a mermaid in the water.”

“What are you on about?”

“Under the water, when I fell in. She was gone though when I went back under.”

Bast was silent and contemplative for a few seconds before he said gently, “Mermaids aren't real.”

“I know that. But I know what it was I saw.”

“Maybe it was just a lady from the island.”

“Her skin was pale as milk; she wasn’t from the island.”

Bast didn’t want to argue, so he just curled into James’ side and placed his hands over the other man’s heart, slowly falling into a shallow slumber. 

\----------------------------------------------------------

A twig snapped in the woods between the dock and the village, and Bast shot up into a sitting position. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, but the noise hadn’t woken James. He was huddled into himself, his arms pulled tight into his chest, as he wheezed breath in through his nose.

“James. We’ve got to go. It’s not safe out here in the open,” Bast whispered, looking back at the woods. He didn’t see anyone, but any person from the island could easily blend into the trees if they didn’t want to be seen.

“Whassit?” James slurred, pushing Bast away when he tried to wake him fully.

“We’ll be safer inside the ship.” When Bast climbed to his feet and turned away from the forest, he froze at the sight of someone standing on the bowsprit of his ship. The person was perfectly still and balanced, their toes curled around the wooden rod to keep their center of gravity straight, and they were staring at Bast. He couldn’t tell if the person was a male or a female; they were wearing a long, saggy, grey robe, as a lot of the poorer people on the island did, and their thin, androgynous features made it impossible for Bast to guess their gender.

“Get off there!” Bast shouted, starting to sprint towards the ship, determined to catch the person trespassing. The person crouched down, and for a moment, Bast wondered if they were just going to take a seat. Instead, they gracefully, soundless, dropped into the water.

“Bast, no!” James cried just as Bast dove into the water when the person had just dropped in. He’d catch the person, dammit, if not to drag them back to Orson for approval, then to demand what they were doing and what they’d stolen from the ship.

The water was too dark and bubbly for Bast to see anything after he dove under, and even as if swam forward and further down, flailing his arms and trying to grab hold of the person, he knew that most likely, they had lived on the island their whole life and knew their way around the water. They were probably up on the docks and running back to their hut by now.

Bast burst up above the water and sucked in an angry breath, paddling back towards the deck. He felt utterly useless, unable to stop some dumb Indian from getting on their boat. If only he’d done what Orson had asked, and taken watch up on his post...

As he lifted himself out of the water, his clothes a soggy mess weighing him down, he was surprised to see James kneeling above the ship thief on the dock, one of his knees pressed between the shoulderblades of the Indian as he held him down to the ground. He had yanked the person’s arms behind their back and was now grasping their wrists in a vise.

“Was this the bloke ye was after?” James asked innocently.


	10. Vulnerable, My Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Bast in injured on the island, James is forced to face the fact that he cannot always protect the man he loves.

“Yes!” Bast exclaimed, shrugging off his soaking wet shirt and galloping over to James, kneeling down to help him hold down the struggling man. Bast used his shirt as a rope to tie the man’s wrists together firmly and then they rolled him over into a sitting position. The Indian was growling and spitting at them, his furious eyes seeming to become even darker.

“What were you doin’ on our ship?” Bast demanded, slapping the man on the cheek, enough to get him to know they were serious.

“Ackla em halve!” he yelled back, slamming his head forward into Bast’s, causing the pirate to fall back on his bottom and clutch his forehead, swearing. While James was momentarily distracted by Bast, the man hopped to his feet and kicked James flat in the chest, sending him skidding backwards on the dock.

“Grab him!” Bast said, unable to move himself; his vision was blurred with white spots as he tried to right himself. In his peripheral vision, he saw the man pull his unbound hands out from behind him and now he was suddenly holding a knife. James, from somewhere in front of Bast that he couldn’t see, was coughing and trying to catch his stolen breath. The wind had been knocked out of him and he struggled to stay conscious so he wouldn't pass out when Bast needed him.

The man lunged forward at Bast and though Bast didn’t see it, he felt his skin split open as the man stabbed him somewhere in the stomach. He shrieked in pain, curling in on himself, trying to somehow make the pain stop. Make the bleeding stop. His hands were covered in blood that he could now see, and when he looked up, the Indian was gone.

“James,” he gasped, losing his own breath and then he was asleep.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

When he came to, he felt his body slowly being shaken as he was held in someone’s arm...were they in a boat? A wagon? He couldn’t see, couldn’t open his eyes, but he felt the instantaneous searing in his stomach and remembered that he’d been stabbed.

“James,” he tried to say, but it came out as a garbled mess. Why was he having trouble speaking? He couldn’t pull himself out of the strange, blinding fog, and the struggle to stay conscious just made his wound hurt more.

“My love.” A new pair of hands pressed against the sides of his face, and the voice...so familiar, yet so foreign, and Bast couldn’t place it.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

“It was one of the locals who did it, an Indian,” James reported as the Healer laid Bast down on the table in the middle of his office. James knelt down by the side of the table and patted the sides of Bast’s face to try and keep him awake while the Healer gathered some medical supplies. 

“They can be quite feisty,” the Healer agreed. He was a pirate from Africa who used to join his crew on trips and tend to their wounds, but now he stayed primarily on the Island of Saint Peters.

Setting the bandages and alcohol down on the edge of the table where Bast lay, he shooed James out of the way and started peeling strips of bandage off the roll. Bast was moaning and tossing his head back and forth, and just looking at the wound on his stomach made James sick. It was deep. Too deep. He’d seen those kinds of wounds kill men before.

The Healer poured a few tablespoons of straight alcohol into the wound and Bast convulsed, his fingers twitching, screaming in pain as he tried to roll off the table, roll away from the additional pain. Unable to do anything, James dropped to his knees beside the table and let himself become numb to Bast’s agonized screams. He stared at the floor. The floor was nice. The wood wasn’t rotted like some wooden floors he’d seen.

“Please, don’t! Don’t!” came Bast’s cries. This was the worst kind of torture, James thought vaguely.

The floor was clean, and not bloody. People must not have died there anytime recently, or else they’d have bloodstains on them, James continued to try and distract himself.

“Nooo! Please, stop! PLEASE!”

The screams stopped and James found himself on his feet, standing beside Bast. The other man was now just crying and wheezing, his chest heaving as he took in labored breaths. His eyes stared at the ceiling as if it was all he could see, and James noticed that his eyes were slightly tinged with red. Blood.

“My love, the pain is over. I promise,” he whispered, taking one of Bast’s hands again. Bast didn’t respond, his mouth dropping open so he could take air in more quickly. The Healer moved to the other side of the table with his supplies and started bandaging the wound, taping on large swaths of cotton, while James whispered quiet assurances to Bast that he wasn’t sure Bast could hear.

James felt like he could breathe himself now that Bast wasn’t screaming in pain anymore. The wound looked better and better as James watched the Healer bandage it, and once it was all covered, Bast’s eyes closed and he let out a breathy snore.

“We’ll let him sleep,” the Healer said, “I need to tell you-”

Whatever he was about to say was lost when the door to the house exploded open and a dark figure filled the doorway. James dropped Bast’s hand and jumped away just as Captain Orson came in. Unsure of whether the Captain had seen him touching Bast or not, he backed up another step and bowed his head. 

If the Captain had seen them, he made no mention of it. He came in with a set jaw and a guarded, yet curious, look in his eyes. He circled the table where Bast lay, and the Healer made himself scarce, ducking out of the room silently. 

“Cap’n,” James said respectfully.

“What happened here?” he demanded, finally meeting James’ eyes. His nostrils flared with barely contained anger, but before James could answer, Marvin and Garge stomped through the doorway, clearly drunk.

“Cap’n, maybe James should go guard the ship. I mean, while we have a lookin’ around. Figure out what’s happenin’,” Garge suggested, his cold eyes darting over to James and practically pinning him to the spot.

“That’s a fine idea. James, be on your way,” Orson said, turning towards the door to the Healer’s private room to fetch him. James purposefully didn’t look at Bast as he made his way to the door, but Garge grabbed his arm before he could leave and spun him so they were face to face.

“It would be such a shame if somethin’ happened to your precious little bitch while the Cap’n weren’t lookin’,” he growled. James yanked his arm away viciously. Rather than respond, he slammed through the door and out into the warm, oppressively humid night air. He felt like he was losing air in his lungs, and he had to kneel down on the dirt outside the Healer’s house to get a hold of himself. He was shaking and heaving bile just at the thought of leaving Bast with those men, splayed out on the table and injured and weak and unable to defend himself, while the Captain had no idea what was going on in the other room. James was so scared, so fucking scared. He couldn’t protect Bast now. Bast was totally and completely vulnerable, at the mercy of his shipmates. It took all of James' strength, strength he didn’t even know he had, just to climb to his feet and start walking down the path that lead to the docks. Lifting his feet over and over again felt like lifting two bricks. Every time he almost turned around and ran back to the Healer’s house, he willed himself to continue. Only a few more steps to the docks. Bast will be fine without you, James kept telling himself. He was fine before you got onto that ship and he’ll be fine now without you. James stepped onto the boat, which was quiet and slowly swaying in the water with the incoming tide, as if it was mourning along with James. The wind howled like a stray dog as he climbed below deck and found the room where he and Bast had shared their first night together. The pile of rice sacks in the middle of the room was just as it had been weeks before, but as James settled in against the pile, he noticed that now it lacked the warmth it once possessed.


	11. Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The captain's plan for the injured Bast is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry this chapter is so very short, but I wanted to post it just so everyone would know I plan to keep this series going; soon, I will be posting a more lengthy chapter!

The next morning, James emerged from his hidden room to find the ship deserted like it had been the night before. Wary about what he expected to find back at the Healer’s home, he stalled by washing himself in the river and then washing his clothes too. There was blood staining his shirt, Bast’s blood, and it made him sick.

After wasting all the time he could, he managed to walk back to the Healer’s house on heavy feet and saw Garge keeping watching outside the house, asleep on a chair by the door. When he went inside, Orson was standing and talking quietly to the Healer while James stared in incomprehension at the empty table.

“Where’s Bast?” he interrupted, looking at the captain. The Healer avoided his eyes and made himself busy with his supplies as the captain answered, “Well, we sent him into the village to be seen by another Healer. His wound was too grave to be seen by this ‘ere man.”

“Cap’n, would you mind terrible if I were to go see him? To make sure he’s doing ‘right?”

“Marvin’s with ‘im. He’ll be fine.”

James couldn’t think of another argument that would let him go see Bash short of telling the captain he was in love with him and his heart felt like it was being shredded at the thought of not knowing if Bast was okay. Gripping the edge of the table, he fought back all the things he wanted to say.

When the captain saw his face, his mouth softened and he said, “I know you’ve great affection for the lad. I’m sure he’s fine. Get back to the ship. We’re headin’ out this afternoon.”

“Back to the ship...” James’ heart faltered as he started for the door but he swung back with a feeling of dread rising in his throat. “You mean we’re leaving Bast ‘ere?”

“He’s too injured to be of any use to us any longer. We’ll have Henry take ‘is place on the foremast and Bast’ll be taken home on the next ship out.”

“Taken back to Maronne?”

“Aye. Now get a move on. We’ve got loads to pack on the ship before noon.”

The captain made his way out of the house and James could hear him talking with Garge as they went back down the path towards the ship. He couldn’t focus on the talking, no, not while Bast was somewhere on the island, about to be left behind. James knew that if he got on that boat without Bast, he was likely never to see him again. So he intended for Bast to be on that boat when it set sail again.


	12. Carnage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James searches for the injured Bast when he learns the crew of the ship plans to leave Bast behind on the island.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is a longer chapter! Thanks for being patient, everyone!

James made sure to appear at the ship that morning helping the other shipmates bring cargo boxes into the storeroom before disappearing under the docks and slipping into the trees to make the journey into town. He knew he only had a few hours to find Bast and sneak him onto the ship, and it was already closing in on noon.

Once he emerged from the jungle, his clothes damp with sweat and sticking to his body, he went from house to house asking the locals where the town healer was, but no one spoke his language. Many people hissed and jeered at him, and one child threw a tomato at him, which he easily dodged. It hurt his feelings more than his person. Continuing to check the position of the sun in the sky, he grew more frantic as he realized he was running out of time.

“Bast, where are you?” he mumbled under his breath, turning in a circle in the village center to see if he’d accidentally passed by any houses. He knew that it was possible that the captain was lying and something horrible had happened to Bast while James was staying overnight in the ship, but he didn’t even want to entertain the idea. No, Bast was somewhere in the village, and James had about half an hour before the ship left without him or Bast.

As he turned to walk back on his path to bother the same people about their same houses, asking if they’d seen another man with skin as light as his, he felt a small tug on his shirt sleeve and looked down to find a small boy standing by his side, shoeless and dirty.

“Can I ‘elp you?” James asked, but the child seemed unable to understand him; he pulled on James’ sleeve again, the universal signal for ‘follow’ and headed off into the wood. James followed him instantly.

The wood past the village was absurdly different than the one between the docks and the start of the village, and James found himself getting caught on thorny bushes and trees with low-hanging branches. He banged his head several times on tree branches and after what seemed like miles into the jungle he realized one of his knees was bleeding a bit.

“Are you takin’ me to Bast?” James called up to the kid, who was weaving through the jungle expertly and hadn’t caught himself on anything. The boy gestured to him to follow more quickly and James sighed, hopping over a muddy log and catching up with the boy. 

“Hey!” he exclaimed, grabbing the boy’s shoulder, forcing him to face James. “Where are you takin’ me?” 

The boy answered with a string of unintelligible words, said quickly and thrown out like he didn’t seem to care, and he pulled himself free from James to continue deeper into the woods. As James turned to follow the boy, he wasn’t surprised to see that the little boy had disappeared into the shadows, leaving no trace.

“Right,” he sighed, sitting down on a nearby rock. He knew logically that the ship had probably already set sail without him, but he hoped, he prayed that maybe they were waiting for him. Unlikely, but he had to at least wish.

The afternoon sun was high in the sky, just barely peeking through the thick overbrush of the trees, and James figured that it was about two hours past noon.

He sighed again. Maybe this is God’s punishment, he thought to himself. Perhaps God is angry at us for our sins, and he made it so that Bast and I would never see each other again. We weren’t meant to be together after all. 

We’ll see each other again in Hell, James told himself. It was the smallest of comforts.

Standing up from the rock, he decided to head back. He knew he couldn’t get on the ship without Bast no matter what, but maybe he could search for his lover in the village again.

He reckoned it was half past four when he spotted a group of huts in the distance and soon after arrived back in the village. The natives were out of their homes collecting fruit and hunting for the animals that would become their dinner, but several younger natives were gathered around the central bonfire, looking somber and uncomfortable. 

“What’s happened?” he asked them, and they looked at him in confusion and pain, unable to understand, unable to answer. A young woman wearing barely any clothes pointed towards across the town to the docks.

There was a feeling in the air, a heavy aura in the town like a water-filled cloud, that roused a suspicious feeling in James. He hastily made his way towards the docks and passed almost no other natives. The ones he did pass glanced away when he turned eyes towards them.

When James arrived at the edge of the dock, he came upon the healer who’d treated Bast’s wounds standing at the edge of the forest and the dock, staring at the carnage left in shock.

The dock was covered in hundreds of dead bodies, natives and pirates alike, unattached limbs strewn about, still dripping blood, and disembodied heads laying beside the people to whom they used to belong. James recognized the bodies of Marvin and Eddie, hanging halfway off the dock above the water. Numbly, James noticed there were more dead natives than pirates. The air still smelled of gunpowder.

James’ ship, the one he hoped to one day step off of onto the rich lands of Saugen, was gone from the harbor. All that the pirates had left to show for themselves was the sight of the docks.

“It was a massacre,” the healer whispered, and out of the corner of his eye, James saw the man wipe away a tear. “It was horrible.”

“How did this happen?”

“Your men tried to board the ship with native women as captives. The leader of the town wouldn’t allow it. Your men wouldn’t back down.”

“They’re not me men,” James said, swallowing a lump in his throat. Scanning the few white bodies in front of him, he didn’t see the familiar blond hair he saw feared seeing on those docks. Bast must have never made it back to the ship, he thought in vague relief.

“And they’ve gone now?” James asked.

“Aye. They got what they wanted.”

“The women?”

“What else?” The healer turned to give him a curious look. “You’re not safe here anymore. Anyone with your skin color will no longer be welcome on the island. You’ve got to leave.”

“How?” James turned to him. “There are no ships on this ‘ere island. Anyway, I cannot leave without Sebastian. I won’t.”

“The injured man you brought to me before?”

“Aye. I’m lookin’ fer ‘im.”

“Well...I can help you with that.”


	13. The Jungle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley the Healer gives James directions to find Bast and James sets off into the jungle.

“I never learned yer name,” James said as the healer set a mug of hot tea down in front of him. He was sitting in the healer’s home at the dining table, knees still a little shaky from the horror he witnessed at the harbor.

“It’s Tinsley.”

“Tinsley?” James repeated as the healer took his own chair at the table and nodded. 

“It’s a family name.”

“Oh. I’m James John.”

“Aye. And Sebastian is the bloke you’re searching for?”

“Aye.”

Tinsley went to sip his tea and James struggled to follow the man’s lead, burning his tongue on the foreign tea. He was eager to find Bast, but on the other hand, he just wanted to curl up under some blankets and sleep off the visions of dead bodies behind his eyelids.

“The healer you’re looking for lives in the great jungle of Saint Peters,” Tinsley explained. “You need to cross town and enter the jungle...it will seem like you are walking for days, and maybe you will be, but eventually you will happen upon a river that cuts through the trees. Follow the river in the direction the water flows until you arrive at a well-built hut. There you will find the healer, and with her, the man you call Sebastian.”

“And you’re sure Bast is with this woman?”

“I am. I brought him to her myself. I could not treat his wound, but this healer is said to be able to bring people back from the dead. She is the best healer on the island.”

Tinsley armed James with a bag of supplies to help him along his journey, including some pieces of cooked meat and bread in a sack, a container of well-water, and some clothes that would keep James’ skin protected from the harsh sun and vicious bugs of the jungle. 

James set off as soon as Tinsley reminded him of the way and walked with purpose to the edge of the jungle. He realized now that the child leading him before must have been trying to bring him to Bast after all. James only hadn’t been fast enough to keep up with the child and the boy must have lost interest or patience.

He took a swig of water and set off into the jungle for a second time that day, forcing himself through the thick brush as the sun set in the distance. Tinsley said that though it would be more difficult to find his way in the jungle at night, the most dangerous creatures and insects wouldn’t bother him after dark. He always had his knife at his hip if he needed to defend himself in the night. 

Deciding to take a break when all the light had gone from the sky and he was thrust into almost complete darkness, James crouched beside a lone boulder and took another swig of water. Tinsley had refused to give him a torch or a candle for light, saying that the light would attract deadly creatures that would otherwise ignore him in the darkness. Now, as James couldn’t see a mere two feet in front of him, he wished he’d insisted on a light source.

After a few minutes of snacking, his eyes started to adjust and the small amount of moonlight that pierced through the treetops allowed him to continue on through the forest. He tripped and fell several times, skinning his knees on the rocks that hid below the grassy jungle floor, and after what seemed like hours of walking, he decided to stop and rest for the night.

A huge boulder sat in the middle of a gathering of trees, and he set down a blanket on the damp grass behind it, hoping that animals and bugs would either not see him or leave him alone while he slept. The boulder blocked the moonlight from shining on him and kept him in shadow, mostly invisible and difficult to sneak up on. As soon as he laid his head down on the blanket, he was asleep.

He expected to sleep for a few hours before the morning light woke him, but he felt like he’d only been asleep for minutes before he jerked his head up in the darkness, dragged out of a shallow sleep by what sounded like a foot stepping in soaking soft moss. Looking all around him, the moon’s light didn’t illuminate much, and he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Keeping completely still, he waited to see if another similar noise came, but the jungle was silent save the buzzing of insects. Cautiously, he laid his head back down, closed his eyes, and waited.

Then he heard it again. A quiet squelching noise came from above, like the sound of someone stepping with bare feet into a pile of wet blankets, and James felt a few drops of cool liquid drip down onto his bare back. He stayed completely still, breathing evenly even though he felt his heart beating forcefully in his chest, and waited to see what would happen.

James’ breath caught in his throat as he unexpectedly felt a hand smooth along his back, and he struggled to keep his breathing steady so that the person wouldn’t know he was awake. He knew they must have climbed over the boulder and landed by his side, since he’d surrounded his sleeping area with twigs that would snap and wake him up if stepped on. He hadn’t considered the possibility of someone climbing over the boulder. He’d forgotten how agile the natives were.

The hand slid across his back and then his side, feeling for weapons, James guessed. His knife lay directly underneath him, and with James lying on his stomach, the person would be unable to find the weapon unless he rolled James over. The hand made its way to James’ head and ruffled through his short hair that had managed to grow out over the past few months; he hadn’t had a chance to cut it, and he knew that soon it would be as long as Bast’s.

The hand moved off of his body and he listened as it sounded like the person was going through his bag. James ventured a peek at the person and saw that it was a native woman with her back to him, crouched over his bag, clearly looking for something. James closed his eyes most of the way and continued to watch the shadow of the woman as she sighed and set the bag back down on the ground, taking nothing.

When she turned towards James, he saw that she was a relatively young woman, most likely only in her twenties, with a sunken, bony face and sharp features that would be beautiful if she weren’t so underweight and skinny. James wondered why she didn’t take the food he had in his bag if she was so hungry.

The woman glanced over at James one more time with a disappointed expression before getting to her feet and climbing back onto the boulder. James watched with amazement as her feet seemed to just suction onto the boulder and she climbed over it with no handholds by simply digging her fingers into the rock, climbing with the agility of a jungle monkey. When she was gone and the jungle was once again silent, James allowed himself to slip back into sleep.


End file.
